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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25464433">pick me from the dark and pull me from the grave 'cause i still feel alive</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/overstreets/pseuds/overstreets'>overstreets</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt Theo Raeken, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Liam Dunbar is Theo Raeken's Anchor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Liam Dunbar, Pack Dynamics, Pining, Post-Canon, Protective Liam Dunbar, Redemption, Scenting, Theo Raeken Needs a Hug, Theo Raeken is Liam Dunbar's Anchor, Touch-Starved, Worried Liam Dunbar, big dumbass energy liam, liam Feels everything, liam dunbar would go to war for theo raeken, mention of liam's i.e.d. episodes, possibly all the classic thiam tropes lbh, pride and prejudice (2005) touches</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:46:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,392</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25464433</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/overstreets/pseuds/overstreets</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Have you noticed anything strange about Theo, lately?”</p><p>Corey snorts, but Mason hushes him, brushing a hand through his hair. </p><p>“Theo's strange at least sixty-five percent of the time, you're going to have to be more specific,” He says, grinning down where Corey's head is pillowed in his lap.</p><p>Liam frowns, wondering, is he? Theo was just Theo. <i>He</i> would have noticed if Theo was being strange, or off.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Corey Bryant/Mason Hewitt, Ethan/Jackson Whittemore, Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>#2 of my teen wolf bingo entries. this one is for 'touch starved'. it.... is probably going to become a bit of a beast. oops.</p><p>basically my love letter to all the regular thiam tropes. theo finding his place within the pack and liam's big dumbass energy while also being cluelessly in love with theo are my emotional support tropes. </p><p>pls... enjoy. i'm @gemmusings on tumblr if you'd like to chat.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Liam notices anything at all, it's entirely an accident. </p><p>The sun bears down on the pack, spread out around the newly-refurbished Hale house. There had been loose plans for a pack meeting that had very quickly fallen to the wayside, even after Scott had managed to pull off a small miracle in getting each and every one of them together in the first place, going so far as to offer bribes (“You get <em> what? </em> ” He had squawked when Malia proudly stated that she had dibs on driving the Jeep whenever she was in town. Liam wasn't <em> that </em> bad a driver, not anymore). </p><p>Before anyone had so much as taken a seat, and in a move that took absolutely no one by surprise, Stiles and Jackson had started bickering.</p><p>It was as though three years hadn't passed since they had left Beacon Hills High, without a single beat Stiles' hands became more and more animated while Jackson teased; issuing childish challenges that led them straight outside, with Liam and the other younger members following after them in order to watch the carnage unfold. </p><p>What was initially a simple bet, essentially a ridiculous ‘anything you can do, I can do better’, quickly turned into a rough and dirty game of lacrosse by the porch, with Lydia and Mason watching on, heckling and swapping notes. Comically, they made a point of pantomime whispering ideas for cheating to each other, waiting to see which supernatural being wasn't too caught in the tunnel vision of competition to pick up on the tips. </p><p>(It was Corey — of<em> course </em>it was Corey — the only one who didn't block out everything else around himself, who caught on)</p><p>Eventually, the sun setting and air cooling down around them, and with Jackson's tail whipping and coiling around a flailing Stiles, everyone finally begins to wilt and disperse, only vaguely unsettled. It's only then, that they realise how little they've managed to do.</p><p>Making the promise to return with water, Liam heads inside to the kitchen, where those who immediately deemed themselves too mature to participate in the first place had gathered to discuss things that seemed to hold actual importance.</p><p>Derek looked as though he wanted to rip Peter's head from his neck, but Liam wasn't entirely sure that it was anything different than usual. Only that he felt the need to keep his distance and remain uninvolved, if at all possible. It seemed safer. Of everyone they had fostered in, he was still unsure that Peter wasn't planning something at any one point in time, or at least keeping an idea in his back pocket, just in case. Even against Scott's insistence that he had mellowed out, now; that he was just… intense. Liam felt a little off-put by his presence.</p><p>Melissa ruffles his hair as he passes and only offers a wink when he yelps in response, trying to duck away and earning a snorted laugh from Jackson, who had filtered in, apparently now also above his own behaviour, muttering ‘childish’ and ‘puerile’ under his breath.</p><p>Liam makes it past them all, happy for the quiet, for once. Happy to bask in it all.</p><p>He feels so content, in a way that he just couldn't otherwise simulate, when they were spread out across the country and spanning across oceans.</p><p>It was still surreal, that people he really barely knew, werewolves like Ethan, were just <em>family</em>; or something equally as strong; without question. They settled into a place carved into his heart, and it was as though it had always been there for them, like filling in a gap. It was what he had been waiting for, without even knowing.</p><p>It felt right.</p><p>He goes to where Argent and Theo are standing, seemingly discussing the possibility of trading information with neighbouring packs.</p><p>“Not everyone is as friendly as the werewolves we've met,” Theo presses when he approaches. “And I'm not talking about them refusing, I'm talking about getting our throats slashed for being on their territory.”</p><p>Liam means only to reach above Theo's head and pull a glass from the cabinet, but something in him swells when he hears them; knowing just how difficult Theo had found it to win Chris over, and for just how long he had tried. He'd spent a year biting his tongue and doing exactly as he was told, knowing that the hunter always kept a wary eye on him, regardless of how often Liam fought that <em> he had proved himself, hasn't he? </em></p><p>He feels a rush of <em> something</em>.</p><p>Pride? Affection?</p><p>“And you, Liam? You think it's not worth the risk?”</p><p>Sometimes Liam wondered if Chris only ever asked for opinions when he already made up his mind about what the right answer was; as though it were really just a test. Wanting to prove a point.</p><p>Liam usually agreed with him, regardless, but that was neither here nor there.</p><p>As he lowers himself from his toes to the balls of his feet and turns, thinking over his opinion, he curls his free hand around the back of Theo's neck, just short of throwing an arm around him, and presses the length of their sides together, without a thought.</p><p>Later, he could blame the heady intoxication of <em> pack </em> and <em> togetherness. </em></p><p>If it were Mason, or anyone, it wouldn't have been a thing, right?</p><p>“We've got connections, right? Have we tried going through them, first? Like a messenger?”</p><p>It's not until he's finished speaking that Liam realises anything is amiss. He feels, more than sees, the way that Theo has gone still under his hand; rigidly so. He hadn't moved to reciprocate any action, or to breathe at all, it seemed.</p><p>Argent’s only indication that he finds anything at all about it peculiar is a quirked brow.</p><p>Liam's brow furrows deeper, and he can't help but wonder if he's said the wrong thing. </p><p>“I mean,” He says quickly, “I agree with Theo. We can't just barge in. But, I don't know, maybe spread the word and see who comes?”</p><p>His eyes flick over to the chimera momentarily, and he can't help but to knead in his fingers just once as an apology, or, as something of a reassurance, maybe, before moving away entirely, stepping towards the island bench and sink.</p><p>He misses half of Chris's reply, when he notices the subtle exhale that Theo finally releases.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>Liam feels it all. Everything. He grasps it close and holds on to it all until it festers and rusts beneath his skin.</p><p>Feels too much; too inherently; too deeply. It was almost something that he took for granted, now. <em> Almost. </em> Everything that he felt seemed to linger and scream out from within him for everyone to know. Days, months — <em> years </em>of phantoms etching their way across his limbs and carving their place in his ribs.</p><p>He could no longer tell if it was just something that plagued him, or his own inability to let go; another part of the I.E.D. that simmered like a flame around his core.</p><p>Regardless; it's always there.</p><p>He still feels the swollen, pulsating ache of a black eye, and he still feels the shock of his father’s fist that had preceded it. He still feels, even more viscerally, the searing burn of pain that came with the truth of it: that in the end he was the one who <em> fucking left them</em>. There was no spiteful satisfaction; no relief. No weight behind the small victory. </p><p>Just a gaping void.</p><p>He doesn’t <em> remember </em> any of it ⸺ not his episodes, and especially not the things his father had done — but he feels everything like it was just another of many open wounds.</p><p>He still feels glass embedded in bloody knuckles; doesn’t have any recollection of smashing his coach’s car, but he still remembers the shudder of his own thoughts. The <em> stupid, stupid, just stupid </em> way he had somehow believed he could fit in; the way he had so readily believed in the sincerity of Brett’s smiles <em> before</em>. More than anything else, he remembered the way it hadn’t been so much about Coach at all, even if it was his car.</p><p>(It was lacrosse balls belting into him; it was the sneer on Brett’s face when he had just tried to explain; it was the way the team wouldn’t even go as far as to make eye contact with him)</p><p>Liam’s body is a map of ghosts and the marks they left on him. Bite marks and claws and bruising fingers marking their place.</p><p>His father.</p><p>Brett.</p><p>Even Scott's fangs had their own place.</p><p>If Liam is the scars, then Theo is the war; the hurricane and the chaos of it all blasting through a battlefield and leaving it upended.</p><p>At least, he <em> thinks </em> so ⸺ because try as he might, Liam can’t feel the echo of any lingering wounds, can’t feel anything but his own indignation as a reminder of everything that had happened. But he feels so familiar; as though Theo was made up of the same ether and gristle. Just, adjacent.</p><p>But even after the zoo, in place of a heavily broken nose, he remembers the swelling feeling of <em> finally </em> having a grasp on the emotions flaring within him. </p><p>It's only when he realises that it's different, the way that he is with Theo, that there are no lingering wounds beneath his skin, that he also realises that he can't remember ever reaching out to clasp a hand over his shoulder or hugging him in celebration when things went right, for a change. He remembers standing close enough to feel the heat of him, visceral, but never the affection. There were no fist bumps, no gentle hands on his skin.</p><p>Was that something Theo even wanted?</p><p>(And how was it somehow <em> not </em> news that it was something Liam, himself, wanted?)</p><p>As far as Liam was aware, Theo was always placing himself in the corner of a room, watching everything from a distance; keeping himself at an arm’s length from everybody around them.</p><p>He was pack — he <em> was. </em> </p><p>But had he shown him as much? He wasn't sure.</p><p>It was possibly a huge mistake, to upset the easy camaraderie they had found; the way that they had become partners and friends and something he couldn't quite explain out loud when comparing it to his friendships with the others; but what else could Liam do? He had to know why everything was different. </p><p>He had to know if it was all in his mind — if he was wasting time and energy thinking about something he had made up on his own. Why were there no obvious markers of Theo across his skin? And, more importantly, why did he want there to be?</p><p>Did Theo have any way of remembering him?</p><p>Did he hate the very thought of Liam's hands on him, enough to hold his breath and shudder when they left?</p><p>After the day at the Hale house, his mind couldn't stop circling around two ideas, entirely preoccupied.</p><p>Firstly, what was it about his touch that had made Theo almost recoil?</p><p>And secondly, for all the time that they now spent attached at the hip, how had he not noticed the barrier of space between them? </p><p>(The question he wouldn't go as far as to ask himself; if he hadn't really offered him touch, why did the idea of <em>not</em> being able to hurt so deeply?)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Have you noticed anything strange about Theo, lately?”</p><p>Corey snorts, but Mason hushes him, brushing a hand through his hair. </p><p>“Theo's strange at least sixty-five percent of the time, you're going to have to be more specific,” He says, grinning down where Corey's head is pillowed in his lap.</p><p>Liam frowns, wondering, is he? Theo was just Theo. He would have noticed if Theo was being strange, or off.</p><p>“Just… distant. I don't know.”</p><p>“You think he's doing something suspicious?” Corey says, concern weaving through his voice, and Liam immediately wonders if he had made a mistake in even asking; should have just tried to figure it out himself.</p><p>“No! No, of course not,” Liam insists, admonishing, finds that he feels immediately defensive on the chimera's behalf. “Not like that. You know he's not like that.”</p><p>He knew how far Theo had come, to build their trust; how hard he had fought for the pack in order to prove himself.</p><p>Theo, who volunteered for every dangerous mission and trained and kept himself up at night, trying to think of anything helpful to offer; any knowledge that they could use.</p><p>It had been <em> years</em>.</p><p>Mason and Corey have, at the very least, enough awareness to appear sheepish.</p><p>“You're right,” Mason concedes, after a pause. “He's not. That wasn't fair of us.”</p><p>“I'm just worried that something's happened and he won't say anything,” Liam admits. “Like maybe he got hurt? The last time you touched him… was he weird?”</p><p>The two exchange another look that Liam can't quite decipher. It wasn't uncommon for them to engage in their own silent conversations, but it never usually <em> bothered </em> him. Then again, Liam was never usually itching so desperately for an answer to a problem he couldn't solve, wound up and already feeling prickly and guarded. He couldn’t admit it, but it felt personal; it wasn’t as though he were asking about the latest creature to wander into town, following the nemeton’s call. It was Theo.</p><p>It only takes a moment before Mason answers, but Liam still feels himself growing more frustrated. </p><p>“I… don't know. I don't know when that was. So, not really,” He answers.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Me neither,” Corey adds. “But it's Theo. He's not exactly the most affectionate guy, right?”</p><p>Liam frowns. He has the distinct feeling settling in his gut, that the pieces were all right there before him, but he just couldn't put them together. He knew that it took a lot for Theo to be soft and open with anyone, but that didn't mean anything, did it?</p><p>“Maybe that's it.” Mason proposes, as though Liam had any idea what he was talking about.</p><p>His look must say it all; because Mason continues.</p><p>“You know, he's just… It's not him, or what he's like with us, right?”</p><p>Liam rolls with it, unsure, “... Uh, I guess?”</p><p>“So maybe it's just something that makes him uncomfortable. Or something he hasn't had enough to know how to handle. I wouldn’t hug him like I’d hug you. And if we wouldn’t, and he spends more time with us than anyone else, the other’s really wouldn’t be doing it either, would they?”</p><p>The more that Liam thinks it over, the more his mind wanders back over the time they had all spent around each one another, the more it just seems to break him apart. His throat goes dry, hands tearing uselessly at a blade of grass.</p><p>“You don't think he's hurt or in pain, you think he just doesn't know how to take being touched?”</p><p>Mason shrugs.</p><p>“Maybe it's a choice, maybe he doesn't like it? Or maybe isn’t and it's strange for him.”</p><p>“If you think about it,” Corey interjects, “How old was he when the Dread Doctors happened? Eight? What's his life been like since then? Can't imagine it was hugs and roses and singing Kumbaya...”</p><p>“Yeah,” Liam replies, and it’s all that he can really manage, having retreated deep enough into his own head that everything else is easily drowned out. He doesn’t notice the reprimanding looks that the other two shoot each other, or the way that Mason bats at Corey’s shoulder. </p><p>“I’m sure he’s fine, Liam,” Corey’s voice is gentle, but Liam just hums, far away.</p><p>He flops back onto the ground, throwing away the shredded grass.</p><p>Had he really been so oblivious? Had he not noticed that there was something missing; that there was still a barrier between Theo and the rest of the pack — a very real and very physical one? For every night that Theo had crashed at his house when he was still just a kid and Theo still lived in his truck; for every battle they had faced and won together; for all that Theo had been the one person he turned to when panicking over colleges and his own failure; had there really been <em> nothing</em>?</p><p>He thought, really, that there was no one more important to him than Theo. That the way his jumping nerves seemed to settle around him and the way that they always just seemed to understand the way that the other worked, fundamentally, he thought that it might have been something that felt special; <em> hoped </em>that it had been the same for the other boy.</p><p>Had he been entirely wrong?</p><p>“I have to go,” He announces without fanfare, getting up without so much as bothering to brush off his jeans, and making his way towards the park’s exit.</p><p>He absolutely wished that he had been able to drown out Mason’s long-suffering sigh.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Liam wallows over it for a full day, blank and restless.</p><p>He had fought against himself, eventually managed to decide that it wasn’t the best idea — to brashly find his way to Theo the same way that he would run headfirst into a fight.</p><p>It was personal development.</p><p>It still itched at him, made him feel fretful as he waited it out, hoped it would calm within him, rather than rumbling like a storm that threatened to break. </p><p>Unfortunately, Liam had never been so lucky.</p><p>When he finds himself outside Theo’s house, on the outskirts of Beacon Hills, he second-guesses everything that had been running through his mind.</p><p>Was he projecting, because it bothered him not to know what Theo’s fingers felt like, skimming across his skin? Because he was now consumed with the thought of what it might feel like for Theo’s hand to dig into his waist?</p><p>(Because he wondered what it might be like, to get his lips on the spot of Theo’s neck where he saw his pulse stuttering, and it was almost foolish how <em> not-new </em> that urge was for him.)</p><p>His cheeks flush before he even steps up to the door.</p><p>“Jesus, just come in already,” He hears Theo say from inside, can almost hear the eye roll that accompanies the words.</p><p>When he steps in and moves through the hallway, he fights to remain normal; to act as though he hadn’t spent the last few days obsessing over the idea that they had all neglected Theo’s need for something as simple as touch, and the very opposing idea that Theo despised the very notion of touch or hands on him so much that he flinched away and they had never noticed.</p><p>He’d been rehearsing a speech in his head, not wanting to hurt him unintentionally or make it awkward between them, but all it amounted to was a floundering apology and a series of questions that sounded half interrogation, half intervention. He had thought, in the end, that it would <em>just have to do</em>, means to say it all as soon as he sees Theo’s face, before he had the chance to interrupt. Just get everything that had been worrying at his brain into the open air between them. That was the plan.</p><p>Stupid.</p><p>Theo is once more in the kitchen, poring over a map of the state, full of circled locations and scrawled notes that Liam can’t interpret.</p><p>For all the well-intentioned plans he had entered with, he remains silent, leaning against the doorframe and just watching, trying to puzzle it all out. </p><p>“Guess you’re done ignoring all my texts, then?” Theo states, more than questions, and Liam’s not quite sure how to respond; just folds his arms over himself and ignores the way the pink tinge of his cheeks only brightens.</p><p>“I, uh…”</p><p>“You’re not gonna tell me why, are you?”</p><p>Theo looks up, then, and Liam knows that the mirth he sees there is only supposed to disguise the part of him that was genuinely worried, thinking that Liam actually meant to and wanted to stay away.</p><p> “I didn’t mean to, really,” He says, “I’m sorry, I just had a lot going on in my head.”</p><p>The other boy frowns, “You okay?” The chimera’s concern would have endeared him if he hadn’t spent most of his waking hours worrying over him and thinking that he had perhaps made a mess of their entire friendship; if it hadn’t been Theo himself who had been running through Liam’s mind and causing havoc.</p><p>He murmurs something noncommittal and moves, stepping in beside him at the dining table to look over the map — his other frenzied plans all but forgotten. It was almost laughable, how quickly he softened around him, put at ease by Theo’s steady presence. He hesitated with the word <em> anchor</em>, heavy as it was, though it was an obvious conclusion. Neither of them had broached the topic in a long time; just found themselves content with the way things were.</p><p>Liam could pretend all he wanted that he had simply matured.</p><p>“What’s this?” He asks, hand smoothing over the large poster.</p><p>Theo hesitates.</p><p>“It’s everywhere I was with the… where I was, before,” He’s quiet as he speaks. “Trying to match places up with possible packs, in case I’m the one that goes.”</p><p>Liam frowns, wondering just why Argent would have asked this of him, after so much time. He was sure that they had already gone over the places Theo had been, had rehashed it enough that Chris would likely know it just as well. He wonders why he thought it had been a good idea to go over it all alone.</p><p>And then he remembers the unopened texts, the ones he had very knowingly ignored.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Liam breathes. “I would have been here… <em> should </em>have been.”</p><p>Theo shrugs a shoulder, as though Liam wasn’t entirely aware that it was all part of what haunted him.</p><p>Liam gulps, lets his hand wander over to settle across Theo’s before he could convince himself that it was a mistake; that everything he thought had been made up in his own mind over the previous few days.</p><p>He feels a vague amount of shame when he realises that he <em>wouldn’t</em> have reached out, before. That even though he thought so often about what it could be like, to do so without reservation, he would have assumed that Theo had himself handled; he wouldn’t have looked for the excuse, even when he <em>wanted to</em>.</p><p>Watching out of the corner of his eye, he sees Theo’s eyes flutter closed, and sees him suck in a shuddering breath, and Liam decides that he might just hate himself.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” He repeats, though he’s not sure that Theo even understands why he’s apologising at all. Experimentally, he strokes his thumb over the flat of his hand. “Is this okay?”</p><p>It seems to throw him. Usually so unflappable, Theo’s eyes flick down to their hands quickly before coming right back up.</p><p>“It’s fine?” He mutters, catching Liam’s eye before pulling his hand out and away. “I’m fine, what’s up with you? You’re making a big deal.”</p><p>Stubbornly, he thinks to himself, <em>maybe it should be</em>. He knows Theo’s ticks, has spent enough time with him to know when something makes him nervous — notices the flex of his wrist and the way the scent of emotion that always read distinctly Theo (... to him, at least) mutes out, hidden. The way he seemed to prepare to protect himself.</p><p>Liam immediately knew he wouldn't be ready to talk about; the touch thing — there was no way that he wouldn't simply deny that he had a problem in the first place. He wasn't sure how he hadn't anticipated that Theo would just find himself feeling ambushed by such an observation.</p><p>Even if he had now all but confirmed that there was something concrete to his earlier worries, without Theo even knowing, he’d only given Liam more reason for concern. But also something more to more to go off than a sneaking suspicion, at least.</p><p>“There’s no reason you should have to prove yourself,” He says, instead, because it was an argument they had already had a hundred times over. It was somehow easier to stomach. “We’ve done this before, we’ve gone over all this. Chris knows.”</p><p>“Maybe I missed something, I—”</p><p>“You're <em> torturing </em> yourself.”</p><p>Theo stops; purses his lips. </p><p><em> You’re enough</em>, Liam wants to shout. Wants to barrel into him and shake him; wants to shake <em> himself </em> for not connecting the dots sooner; for not understanding how Theo could feel as though he wasn’t a part of the pack in the same way that the others were when he was so incredibly essential. He was <em> vital</em>.</p><p>But how could he have known, when they hadn’t made an effort to show him? To prove it?</p><p>“I’m doing nothing of the sort,” Theo insists. “What are <em> you </em>doing? Just let me do what I have to do, Liam, and then we can go watch Transformers or whatever you’re here to do.”</p><p>Liam feels it all rising within him; every running frustration, every unspeakable emotion.</p><p>“I’m not here to—just, <em> ugh </em> —Theo… you don’t have to do <em> anything</em>. We know how it’ll end anyway, don’t we? You’ll go off volunteering even after making some list; even though you’ve met these packs before and you know you’ll put yourself in their firing line. Even though Chris already knows which ones you met. You <em> don’t have to</em>.” </p><p>Theo snorts, incredulous, “And what? Let the others do it? Let you go instead and tell everyone I have to look out for my own skin? Like I can just do that. You know that’s not an option.”</p><p>“It <em> is</em>. You <em> can</em>.”  </p><p>Liam’s not quite sure what to do. For all that he had planned, he knows that there was nothing he could say, then and there, that could make the chimera see. Desperation starts to lick at his bones, the fear that Theo could simply panic and shut himself off even further.</p><p>“Theo,” He starts, stepping forward and into his space again.</p><p>“<em>Liam</em>,” Theo mirrors, but it sounds like a warning, the edge of a growl.</p><p>Whether it was ever a good idea or not, listening to directives had never been one of Liam’s strong suits, no matter who or where they were coming from. </p><p>“Scent me.”</p><p>“I… what?” If nothing else, his frantic scramble to think of something tangible had at least managed to shock the taller boy out of whatever impassive crater he had been really to dive into.</p><p>“<em>Scent me</em>,” Liam repeats, taking a final step closer until they were standing toe to toe, and he could feel the heat of Theo’s raggedly-rising chest before his own.</p><p>He tilts his neck, exposing himself; the most vulnerable move he could think of.</p><p>Theo looked as though he were about to argue the point and refuse, but Liam instead watches through his own hooded eyelids as his mouth promptly snaps shut. His eyes boring a hole where his vein stretches, jackrabbiting pulse perfectly framed. </p><p>He doesn’t allow himself to stop and think what a terrible idea it likely was. He had to prove a point, and that was something he would never allow himself to back away from; really wasn’t sure it was even <em> possible</em>, at his very core. He had to make Theo see. </p><p>Perhaps he could have stopped to take into account the thrum that ran through his veins whenever the chimera got close enough, or the way that he imagined Theo’s fingers digging into his scalp and running over bare skin when he was alone, or even simply his own hypothesis that touch might be too much.</p><p>(And perhaps, it was just the case for the both of them. Too much.)</p><p>But he didn’t.</p><p>Theo swallows thickly, but he doesn’t move away. His hands tremble — with what, Liam isn’t sure — but he comes to rest them on Liam’s hips. </p><p>“C’mon,” Liam urges, a rush going through him when the only answer is a rumble through the other boy’s chest.</p><p>“Shut up,” Theo commands, pushing Liam until his back hit the wall with a soft ‘oof’. “You don’t know what you’ve done; what you’re doing.”</p><p>Defiantly, Liam only angles his neck further. </p><p>He feels hot breath against his skin, first. He closes his eyes against it, in anticipation, just as he feels the tip of Theo’s neck finally glance over the dip of his collarbone. </p><p>The noise that he hears, vibrating against him, is wounded; half a wolf-like whine.</p><p>His hand trails up to the back of Theo’s neck, far more purposeful than it had been before — on another day, in a different kitchen. His short nails rake up into Theo’s hairline before tracing back down, urging him in closer to his own neck. “Please,” He tries, again.</p><p>It’s then, after what must be an eternity, that he finally seems to let go.</p><p>The feeling of his nose and his mouth pressing against him, dragging against his skin has Liam’s knees buckling, held up only by Theo’s hands on his hips, pushing him into the wall. </p><p>“Do you get it?” Liam asks, softly, while he still has his wits about him, his hands running up through waves of hair. “I smell like you.”</p><p><em>Pack</em>, he tries to say. <em>Yours</em>.</p><p>Theo just about sobs.</p><p>It’s not that he expected a response; it’s not that he even had the wherewithal to truly comprehend anything that was happening, but when he feels teeth nipping at and grazing at the juncture of his neck, Liam loses himself to it; hips bucking and fingers gripping tight, his own unintelligible noises leaving his lips without permission.</p><p>Hips press against his own, bracketing him in and announcing to the both of them just how hot and hard and aching he was beneath his jeans, just as Theo’s lips trail further up his neck.</p><p>“<em>Jesus</em>, Theo,” He moans, hands clinging on as though he depended upon it, and maybe he did. He wanted him closer; wanted to get to the hem of Theo’s shirt and his own; wanted <em> so much</em>.</p><p>But something about the sound of his own name seems to send a shock through the chimera, without Liam realising; dousing him with cold water, because Theo tears himself away.</p><p>He looks crazed. Cheeks flushed, hair messed up and breath dragging painfully out of him, but… </p><p>“Theo—”</p><p>“Get out.”</p><p>Liam’s eyes widen, planted against the wall as he is, confused by the icy tone. “What?”</p><p>“How much clearer do I have to be? Fucking — just, god — get <em> out</em>.”</p><p>“Wait, please, would you talk to me? Theo, please? We can forget it; we can pretend nothing happened, if that’s what you want?”</p><p>Theo’s eyes glow bright and golden, and he speaks around long fangs.</p><p>“Don’t make me say it again, Liam. Get. The. Fuck. Out.”</p><p>“Okay!” He concedes. “Okay. Theo. I’m so sorry I fucked up. I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Just, please, call me if you need to. Any time. Whenever... When you're ready. I’ll answer.”</p><p><em>No</em>, he wants to say. <em>No, please. Not like this.</em> If he wasn't entirely thrown; if he didn't feel as though everything within him was scrambling to rearrange around this reality — around the truth that so easily found it's place; a repeated mantra of <em>Theo</em>.</p><p>Theo turns away, without any hint of a response, gripping the countertop in his rapidly transforming hands. Liam feels the well of tears in the corners of his eyes; unable to believe that he had managed to mess it all up so thoroughly and completely. Not just the night and whatever he thought he could somehow accomplish, but the foundation of their friendship at the very core of it all.</p><p>With a final look at the hunched and heaving line of Theo’s back, Liam turns and leaves.</p><p>Climbing into the heap of junk he calls a car, every single nerve and limb and muscle feeling drained, he sends out three texts with shaking hands.</p><p>So much for not acting brashly.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>TO: SCOOT.</p><p>scott. pls go to theo’s. i ducked up. help him.</p><p> </p><p>TO: THE WOLF WHO LIVED</p><p>i’m so fkn sorry. i wanted you to know how much you mean to me. you’re my best friend. </p><p>i don’t want to lose you. i don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. but we can. </p><p> </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>any and all comments and feedback is always welcome xxxxxxxx</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for the love on the first chapter. I very much appreciate it &lt;3 Also please be warned that Theo is v broken and that's basically what this is.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>At the sound of the door closing behind Liam, Theo finally allows the swell of hurt to take over.</p><p>Ignoring the fact that Liam couldn’t have made it far enough away not to hear, he swears, loud and vicious, and lets his fist fly into the wall.</p><p>He’d heal, and he could fix it. What did it matter?</p><p>A howl threatens to tear its way up his throat. He just, god, just wants to break something; wants the stinging of his knuckles to spread and for it to last long enough to block out everything else. He could punch a hundred holes in the wall and it would never be enough to settle the all-consuming, <em> empty </em>rage within him.</p><p>Liam was an idiot, but he was never cruel like this.</p><p>He didn’t know what he had done; Theo knew that much. Didn’t know that he seemed to continually find ways to offer Theo everything he couldn’t — and wouldn’t — allow himself to want without truly understanding; without <em> meaning it</em>. </p><p>It only made it harder to deny when the palpable offer of something he wanted with a desperation so overwhelming that it choked was dangled right there before him, just when Theo started accepting his lot in life for what it was.</p><p>That maybe the loneliness and the quiet of solitude was just how things were supposed to be. </p><p>He could be okay with it when that was all that he could hope for — he really could be.</p><p>He was a boy who went to hell, and came back some sorry version of <em>alive</em>, with his sister’s vengeful hands caught in the cavity of his chest, still wrapped tightly around her own beating heart.</p><p>He would never be at the center of a pack the way that he had dreamed, all those years ago; never have people rally around him the same way they would fight and die for Scott Mccall. All he had to do to see that it was better that way was come back from the promise of never-ending suffering. He’d never deserve it and certainly never be able to trust himself with that kind of power.</p><p>Theo didn’t want it anymore; didn’t want to lead. Because, over anything else, he couldn’t be the reason that any more people died. He wanted to atone; he wanted to be good; he just wanted to <em>be wanted</em>.</p><p>And, really, what else was he supposed to do to make up for all the wrongs he had done but follow around after a pack he was now indebted to, pretending that it wasn’t all for the way a certain beta now smiled at him without reservation, hoping that maybe they would — <em> want him</em>, that is.</p><p>(And yeah, maybe Scott McCall coming to him first about problems he didn’t know how to handle was nice, and maybe helping new werewolves like Alec learn how to control themselves and settle into the power coursing through their veins was alarmingly rewarding. </p><p>The longer that he stayed and the more strings tangled around their way around his heart, the more he foolishly started to believe that it could be for good; that maybe he earned his place and they wouldn’t eventually be offering their condolences and making him leave.</p><p>But late at night when he was honest with himself, he knew that he could find a place elsewhere; just about anywhere that he wanted. They’d let him. He could leave at any time; pack himself into his truck and high-tail it out of town.</p><p>The remorse was a part of him, just as intrinsic to who he was as anything else, but he could carry his guilt with him anywhere.</p><p>He couldn’t deny the truth that lay at the very center of him; that he stuck around for the little wolf with anger problems who told everyone that they were a <em> team </em> and allowed his own mother to spoil Theo without so much as a begrudging quip; with something gentle and sweet behind his eyes that Theo was never quite prepared for.</p><p>The boy who saw more than just the action of a scared boy, forever followed by death.)</p><p>He’d always been a good actor.</p><p>But he couldn’t pretend that he couldn't hear the way that his heart stuttered and <em>begged </em>for more when Liam touched him. The way that it planted ideas that weren’t real; the way that he had thought, for a long, long moment, that maybe the universe decided that he could have this.</p><p>Theo <em>knew better</em>.</p><p>He wasn’t sure why or how, but he knew that it had to be a trap; that it was conditional; that he was making it into something more than it truly was.</p><p>The universe didn’t favour Theo Raeken.</p><p>Entertaining it at all was a bad idea, so he did the only thing he could think of.</p><p>He pushed it away, pushed <em>him </em>away, hoping that it was at all possible to ignore the way that it tore him in two. It didn't take long to see that it wasn't; he couldn’t.</p><p>Liam was the burning sun that he orbited around; the tethering flame that reminded him that he could be better if he just <em>tried</em>. For him, he could be more than just the sum of all his previous mistakes. </p><p>He was sure that the others still saw glimpses of the boy he had been: consumed by all the things he wanted but couldn’t have and stubbornly fixated on self-preservation. But Liam? Liam allowed him in; caution bleeding away to nothing.</p><p>Theo wasn’t sure if it was more indicative of who he was or of Liam’s naivety. </p><p>Because he still <em>wanted</em>; just differently.</p><p>The thought of such unwavering trust was heady; overwhelming — has him sliding down the now-ruined wall and curling up into himself, biting into his own forearm to stop from howling.</p><p>He’s on the verge of feral, wondering <em>what the fuck </em> is wrong with him; wondering what Liam thought he was playing at, <em> exposing his neck</em>, for fuck sake. He offered himself, and it made Theo want to give it all up, every bit of pretense that had fooled both the pack and himself.</p><p>And he’d come damn close; all but lost himself to the feeling of Liam’s hands soothing over his neck; the gentle urging.</p><p>Because, shit, he’d never ask, since it was just one more thing on his list of impossibilities, but it had been so long since anything had felt so good; since he’d even entertained the idea of allowing anything of the sort to slip past his own defences. He told himself that he didn’t care; he didn’t need it — touch, <em>and Liam</em>.</p><p>All it could do was cause pain, to admit that maybe he wanted it.</p><p>It was only Liam, who he allowed to watch on in awe when he settled into a full transformation on a full moon. It was only Liam, whose eyes seemed to find him across the room, pleading, <em> hoping</em>, when the others all piled on top of each other like pups; limbs criss-crossing and scent mingling. The only one who seemed to have a talent of knowing exactly when Theo began sinking into himself; asking him to run or sending some goofy picture to get him out of his head that had his mouth going dry.</p><p>It was only Liam, who had turned a truly ridiculous shade of red and stuttered a non-answer when Theo had noticed that there was a full drawer of clothing that wasn’t his own and a mug in his cupboard and a truly awful box of sugar-pretending-to-be-cereal hidden away in the back of his pantry.</p><p>He inserted himself into Theo’s life so readily; seemed to preen under Theo’s searching gaze, entirely nonchalant against the attention.</p><p>He didn’t even think Liam knew what it meant, to spread his scent around another wolf’s territory as though it were nothing. He certainly didn’t know how it affected Theo.</p><p>Didn’t know what he was doing at all, apparently. Teasing Theo in such a way; goading him.</p><p>Or maybe he did. Maybe he always had.</p><p>Theo just can’t wrangle himself under control. Can't make sense of it.</p><p>His mind races and he can’t help the instinct to snarl and snap and bite, even though no one is there; he’s entirely alone. Just panicked.</p><p>Breathing fast, head spinning, the instinct there to scratch at his own skin. </p><p>Like waking from a nightmare.</p><p>He doesn’t deny himself the impulse; claws scratching viciously against his own scalp as though he could possibly erase the phantom of Liam’s own fingers curling into him; as though maybe it could silence the mess of jumbled thoughts and fears that swallowed him.</p><p><em> You’ll never be one of them, </em> a voice that sounded suspiciously like Tara’s ricochets through him.</p><p>
  <em> You’ll always be a failed experiment. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’ll never want you when he realises. </em>
</p><p>He sobs, claws digging into his own flesh, the same moment a heavy hand settles around his wrist.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em> “He means you too, you know.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Theo's eyes flick away from the road momentarily — searching over Liam, though his eyes stay cemented out the window and away from him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He can't help it; the aborted huff of a laugh that leaves him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He hates to think how bitter it likely sounds to Liam's ears — desperately tries not to think on it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Scott McCall does not want me crashing his little victory party. Can't imagine anyone else does, either.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He doesn't have to look over again to feel the stubborn indignation rolling off the beta beside him; to know that his nose is crinkling in a half-snarl, ready for an argument.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Theo can't quite tell whether it's on his own behalf that Liam's temper flares, or in defence of his friends. He imagines it's the latter, but he finds himself foolishly wanting to remain ignorant; pretend, if only for a little while. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> (Same way he couldn't think about how one phone call and plea for help from Scott — the echo of the words ‘Get Liam’ — and he was veering around on the interstate without a second thought. The same way he tried to pretend that it meant nothing). </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I want you there,” Liam says. “You fought, just like the rest of us. Scott's the one who called you in the first place, wasn't he? And you came. You saved me… and Corey and Mason. Don't act like you don't give a shit.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Doesn't matter, Liam. It's not that easy.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Could be,” Liam replies. “If you let it.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Rather than heading straight inside when they pull up at the McCall house, still wrapped in yellow ‘crime scene’ tape, Liam circles the car, coming around to the driver's side door. He opens it, holding out his hand for Theo to take.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Theo regards it warily. His eyes flick from Liam's open ones to his hands.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What was he playing at? Inviting Theo as though he wasn’t aware that this would always be out of his reach, dangled before him whenever help was needed with the unspoken understanding that it was just a favour. Sure, maybe Liam didn’t know — earnest and good-hearted and naive as he was, he surely had no idea that Theo had spent the last few months trying to stave away nightmares in the backseat of his truck, or that he had been so close waving it all goodbye and getting the fuck out of town; that Liam’s name was the only thing that kept him around. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Maybe he had no idea. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But that didn’t make it easier. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Liam just did things. Perhaps not always with the purest of intentions, but he did them anyway. Pulled Theo out of hell. Broke the sword that would have sent him right back. Invited him into their pack celebration. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He did things, and he didn’t know what they meant for someone like Theo, who trusted nobody but himself, but thought, just maybe… Maybe there was someone else. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> After a long moment, that feels like it could have been an hour, Theo sighs and gets out of the car. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He doesn't take his hand, but he steps inside. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>“C’mon Theo,” A steady voice implores. “Stop, now.”</p><p>Theo had always been a contrarian, but he recognises something in the voice that makes him want to do as it says, mind settling, if only minutely.</p><p>Later, he’d stop and wonder just how far gone he had been to allow someone to get into his home and approach without any of his senses picking up on the intrusion, but in that moment, he can’t.</p><p>If he’d been able to think clearly at all, perhaps he would have tried to force his legs to work, perhaps he would have tried to run — he wanted to think so, at least — but there’s something comforting and familiar to the voice, and he’s not foolish enough to believe that he’s even capable, that it wouldn’t just end in some painfully embarrassing display.</p><p>He just stops.</p><p>Or, at least, he thinks that he does.</p><p>“Theo,” Scott says again, pitying, and, <em> oh</em>, he can’t breathe, “<em>Theo</em>, just listen.”</p><p>All he can do is gasp, still not believing that any air is making its way to his lungs, though the dark and cloudy tunnel of his consciousness starts receding to the edges of his vision. “Theo, breathe for me. Just listen and breathe along with me. Are you with me?”</p><p>Theo tries to nod, but he’s not sure that it’s obvious against the jerky shivering of his body.</p><p>“I-I am,” He replies, voice hoarse, watching the exaggerated breaths that the other boy keeps taking, the heavy in-and-out motion, trying to mimic it until the cloudiness begins to clear. “Scott, I don’t…”</p><p>“You’re having a panic attack.”</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Theo knew panic attacks; waking up from vivid recollections of his time in hell almost always resulted in some kind of episode. But they were different; especially the new iterations of the scene, with Scott tearing into his chest and taking his heart, watching Tara take Liam’s heart as her payment, instead. It was a different panic when he woke. It was pure terror; the inability to move or open his eyes for so long that he thought perhaps his heart <em>had </em>stopped. The kind of terror that had him downing sleeping pills he knew would be out of his system long before he managed to drift away, knowing that he would be right back there again.</p><p>It wasn’t this. </p><p>Shifting and losing himself, ripping into his own skin; loud and unyielding.</p><p>Head tipped back against the wall, trying to take in whatever air he could, Theo frowns.</p><p>Scott’s folded in front of him, hands releasing his now-stilled wrists, only to settle gently over his bent knees, the touch grounding him in reality; knowing deep down that Scott’s heart was too big for him to ever need his, too.</p><p>His thumbs sweep over clothed skin, and Theo momentarily wishes that the denim of his jeans wasn’t in the way.</p><p>He sucks in a sharp breath.</p><p>“I don’t—I’ve never… Not like that.”</p><p>He can’t look at Scott’s sympathetic features; he can’t handle it.</p><p>“They’re not always the same,” Scott’s hands trail up and down his legs. “Whatever caused it; whatever Liam did, you can’t predict what it’s going to bring up.”</p><p>Theo balks.</p><p>“How-how do you know…  You don’t know that it was him.”</p><p>But, of course, he did. Of course Scott knew more than he wanted to believe; likely knew before he even walked through the door, but Theo can’t quite bring himself to admit that he’s so predictable.</p><p>He <em>hates, hates, hates </em>the idea of that sympathy being directed towards him.</p><p>Poor, emotionally-stunted Theo, wanting a boy like Liam, who would never possibly feel the same. </p><p>Scott just looks at him with the quirk of a sad smile and a single squeeze of his knee before he retracts entirely, and that says just about everything.</p><p>He moves to sit beside him, against the wall, shoulders touching. Theo lets out a shaky exhale.</p><p>“He <em>means </em>well,” Scott starts, and Theo wants to roll his eyes and counter, but Scott beats him to it. “He means well, but he doesn’t think.”</p><p>And that… yeah. That was about right.</p><p>“Act first, consequences later,” He mumbles, letting his legs slide out straight.</p><p>He can feel it, that Scott grins, nudging against his shoulder.</p><p>“And then there’s <em>you</em>, all you do <em> is </em>think.”</p><p>He’s quiet, because, what does Scott want from him? What is he supposed to say? It’s not a wrong assessment.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re in your head so much, and not many of us know how to get to you when you are, you know? We don’t know what it is that you need from us... Even me,” Theo’s jaw sets, clenched tight. The way Scott says it, it sounds as though he needs help. Like he was sad, or something. He hadn't picked up on anyone even noticing. He needed to get himself together. “But Liam tries. He wants to know.”</p><p>Theo desperately, <em> desperately </em>wants to growl at his alpha, just about reaching the threshold of how much he was willing to talk about Liam, or what was happening. He couldn’t any more; not when he was beginning to fear that Scott knew <em>far </em>too much; was getting way too close to an open nerve.</p><p>But Scott’s voice is steady and calm, and it all just throws him, can’t quite choose between fight or flight though he needs to do <em>something</em>.</p><p>“You really shouldn’t be as close as you are, you know? Doesn’t make much sense. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it should be like this all the time, you know? At each other’s throats, getting each other riled up.”</p><p>Understandable.</p><p>It was just as much of a shock to Theo when they seemed to get over the almost-constant urge to punch each other in the face, settled into something calmer, anchored in teasing and the knowledge that they somehow fought better <em>together</em>.</p><p>The universe was full of jokes.</p><p>“He cares about you.”</p><p>Theo snorts, shaking his head.</p><p>“He does. Cares enough that he listens to you. He stops to think when you tell him that he should. He follows your lead.”</p><p>He’s not sure what Scott is trying to get at; not sure why it’s so important. They’re some iteration of <em>pack</em>, of course they’re able to work together. Liam’s an idiot — an impulsive, ridiculous idiot — but he’d never willfully jeopardise anything that they’re working towards. </p><p>“Scott, whatever you’re trying to say… I don’t know that it really matters.”</p><p>He turns his head to find Scott already looking at him, searching. For what? Theo isn’t sure. But he just smiles again, one of those too-open Scott McCall smiles that had him committing to a pack he was sure barely tolerated him; a smile that had him cursing his own weakness.</p><p>“It will,” He says, clamping a hand around Theo’s shoulder. “When you’re ready, it will.”</p><p><em> How? </em> Theo wants to snarl. <em> How will it matter, when I never had a fucking chance. </em></p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>* * *</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>There’s a meeting at Deaton’s. </p><p>Theo makes sure he’s the last one through the door; with no time for things to get messy. He avoids Liam’s kicked-puppy stare with a steadfast resolve, though he can barely keep his attention focused on anything going on around him.</p><p>He’s out the door before Liam can take more than a single step towards him. He only just manages to block out the thick scent of despair before it swells enough to overwhelms him.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>* * *</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <strong>FROM: the little wolf that could (03:27am)</strong>
</p><p>i know you’re not sleeping. and i know you won’t answer. and i know you won’t let me be there. but.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>FROM: the little wolf that could (03:28am)</strong>
</p><p>i need you to know that your nightmares aren’t real. i’ll always make sure you know that. evn if you cant stand me.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>FROM: the little wolf that could (03:28am)</strong>
</p><p>it’s your heart and i know it. its not hers.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <strong>FROM: the little wolf that could (03:28am)</strong>
</p><p>no one else can have it.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>Theo hurls his phone across the room and doesn’t even regret it when he hears it shatter.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>* * *</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>Theo was born trying to chase away death, and he was beginning to believe that it was all he was destined for — that it was all he <em>could </em>have.</p><p>Heart conditions and the creeping fear of failure and doctors; hunters and hell itself.</p><p>Tara.</p><p>He had done most of it to himself, and he had to pay the price — there would always be something that followed after him. A shadow at the edge of his vision, a creeping feeling of being on the edge of destruction; on the edge of his own oblivion.</p><p>And that was fine — it <em>was. </em> But it didn’t account for anyone as indistinct as Liam Dunbar getting in the way of what he had resigned himself to.</p><p>Of only having his own inevitable end to look forward to.</p><p>(Who was he kidding? He’d never been indistinct. Every part of him took notice of Liam, even when there were supposedly bigger schemes on his mind.)</p><p>It was a trick, wasn't it? Something fabricated by the ghosts that occupied his mind.</p><p>How could Liam stand to be around him? How could Liam ever even think about wanting some half-boy like him? Trapped in purgatory and fumbling around with the second chance that he had been given, as though there weren’t forces trying to find the first chance to take it all back. </p><p>How could he feel like this, when he knew better?</p><p>He couldn’t let it keep going on; had to get his head on right.</p><p>Even if it was lonely and quiet, but somehow louder in his head than it ever had been before. Even if he couldn’t appease the traitorous voices in his head.</p><p>It was for the best. For Liam. For himself. For everyone. </p><p>He keeps himself distant where he can, stays off to the side of it all, craving touch and acceptance but convincing himself that <em>it’s better this way. </em> It’s better to itch and yearn and know that he had long ago given up such desires than to have and lose. </p><p>Better not to get his hopes up that it was even possible.</p><p>(And then,</p><p>Liam’s bared neck; Liam’s hands trailing up over his scalp; his own hands wandering. </p><p>The way he <em>wants</em>; the way he can’t stop thinking about what it could be like, to soothe a finger over Liam’s bottom lip, when he bites into it, to settle Liam in his lap and mark up the junction of his neck, the part that he’d only got a simple taste of. </p><p>To have Liam’s gentle ocean eyes to look for, when he wakes up filled with guilt and dread and pain.)</p><p>But how was he supposed to ignore it, now? Having even the smallest taste of what it could be like.</p><p>To be more; to have more.</p><p>It had been a week, and it was all that was on his mind, but he could barely fathom giving himself away, even to Liam.</p><p>Could a single memory be enough to keep him going?</p><p>He wasn’t sure.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>* * *</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>When Scott finds him again, asking for his help with the first of their upcoming meetings with neighbouring packs, he can’t say ‘yes’ fast enough.</p><p>It doesn’t matter that it’s a bad idea. Doesn’t matter that he knew better. He has to get away, no matter the cost.</p><p>Scott knows enough to call his bluff.</p><p>“You can’t <em>be </em>there,” He admits. “They know you, it would be a disaster for all of us. But we could use your knowledge, and… and we could really use the back-up, if it comes down to it.”</p><p>There’s something else there; something behind his words that tells Theo there’s more to the request, but he merely cocks an eyebrow. </p><p>Scott very pointedly ignores him, continues on.</p><p>“They won’t know. You’ll be at a motel, off the interstate or just far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to catch your scent, and we’ll find a way that you can listen in or that we can update you, and it won’t go any further than that, alright?”</p><p>Theo wouldn’t have cared if Scott wasn’t so obvious. He would have let it go as nothing to concern him — as none of his business — but his very clear avoidance was a neon warning sign that had old instincts screaming <em>trap, trap, trap. </em></p><p>“That’s fine. I’ll follow your lead, of course. But why is it that you need me, exactly?”</p><p>His arms cross over his chest, and he absolutely doesn’t miss the way Scott gnaws at his lip.</p><p>“Liam just…”</p><p>Ah.</p><p>“He just… He needs some time to get himself together. He hasn’t exactly been coping.”</p><p>Theo doesn’t quite know what to say to that. He knows what Scott does; that it’s because of him.</p><p>It’s his fault.</p><p>“He’s lost control?” His tone remains careful as he tries to clarify. As if he didn’t already know.</p><p>As if he couldn’t imagine the reality of how he was coping, like he didn’t feel the jittering pain of losing his one grounding presence. He, at least, had more experience in living in charge of himself, in knowing how to be his own anchor.</p><p>Liam wasn’t quite so experienced. Wasn’t lucky enough.</p><p>Scott has the gall to appear sincere, in his regret. The way that only Scott McCall could; eyes too open and mouth tilted in a half-smile that had Theo cursing himself. His own ability to get himself involved was his downfall. If he wasn't the architect of his own demise, Scott and his idiot pack surely would be.</p><p>“Theo, he’s just… He’s upset that he hurt you, and he doesn’t really know how to live with that.”</p><p>Theo didn’t know how to live with any of it, didn’t know how to live with what he had done or who he was, or <em>any of it</em>. He was a half-boy, masquerading amongst real people; so great at pretending that perhaps this was just who he was, now.</p><p>“Yeah, well.”</p><p>“I don’t know the right thing to say to him this time,” Scott says, offering a sad smile. “I have a feeling that there’s only one person who does.”</p><p>Theo sighs, begins to fidget.</p><p>“I just… I need time.”</p><p>Scott’s hand claps over his shoulder, thumb pressing in and squeezing in what he’s sure to think is a comfort, though it puts Theo on edge.</p><p>There’s an itch beneath his skin; something not-right, something that doesn’t belong.</p><p>“So, when do you need me ready?”</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>* * *</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>“Don’t go.”</p><p>Theo wishes that he hadn't entirely expected it — to find Liam standing  at his door, looking defiant.</p><p>Like he expects Theo to turn him away.</p><p>He’s not wrong for it; he’d given him quite enough reason to believe that he might.</p><p>Theo had been dreading seeing him again, like this, knowing that he couldn’t avoid the other boy forever. But he doesn’t move. Even when he’s aware that he should; that it would only make things harder if he humoured Liam even this once; his instincts still aren’t yelling at him to run, the way that he expected them to.</p><p>Even without a proper greeting; even with everything up in the air. </p><p>No acknowledgement of the last time Liam had shown up at his house. No acknowledgement of the texts Liam has to know he’s seen.</p><p>No acknowledgement of a full week spent apart.</p><p>“I’m coming back,” Is all he says, simply. It feels as though it cuts through the silence like a dull knife.</p><p>There’s so much more that he could say; so many questions. He wondered why Liam even <em>cared</em>, now, why he hadn’t simply given up and moved on. He’d assumed that he would, but Theo should have known better; should have known that Liam would die before admitting there was ever a hill he couldn’t climb.</p><p>That, they shared. Perhaps he wasn't quite as stubborn, not to the same extent, but for all their differences, he was just as mulish. He could tell himself as much as he wanted that he hoped Liam would give him space, but he knew deep down that wasn’t entirely true; couldn’t deny the overwhelming relief that he had been wrong.</p><p>He wondered if he was really that transparent.</p><p>“I don’t want you to go,” Liam reiterates. “It’s dangerous. Just because I… Just because I’m fucked up, doesn’t mean you should—”</p><p>“Liam,” He stops him before Liam can begin a tirade, letting the hand that was hanging onto the doorframe drop. Giving, just slightly. His voice softens, “I’m going. It’s already decided.”</p><p>He notices the way that he bites his tongue; the way his cheeks start to flush with frustration, the rising anger within him, above the usual baseline.</p><p>Because it was always there. A part of him as much as anything else; may as well run alongside his heartbeat.</p><p>“They <em>know </em>you,” Liam says, from between gritted teeth. “If you think <em> I’ll </em> get in trouble, what do you think is going to happen if you show up?”</p><p>“I’ll be fine. I’m only going as back up, since there will be one less of us. At a distance. I won’t be at the meeting. Nothing to worry about.”</p><p>Liam scowls, grumbling, “I could have gone,” His arms folded over his chest.</p><p>“No, you couldn’t,” Theo replies, knows that he wouldn’t have ever let him. He could deal with the danger; a Liam who wasn't in control? He couldn't. “If Scott is right and you’re not in control, you can’t be going to meet another pack for the first time. You’ll start a war that we don’t need right now. You need to figure yourself out first.”</p><p>Liam looks at him with a fire that promises the incoming contact of a punch to his face, the way that he would have years before when neither of them had any rational way of coping; when they had no say in the way the world seemed to be constantly imploding around them, but nothing comes.</p><p>It would have been <em>safer</em>. Anger is safe; always had been. Anger, he could navigate; Liam's, especially. Diverting him and talking instead about plans and pack business and their own obvious shortcomings and not about all the things that hang, unspoken, between them; all the things that Theo still has the urge to say. </p><p>The ‘<em>I miss you’, </em> and the ‘<em>I can’t let myself ruin this’, </em> and the ‘<em>It would be different if you knew’. </em></p><p>The ‘<em>I can’t keep this up when I want you so badly that I can’t breathe sometimes, so badly that it hurts, and I can’t stand it, and I hate myself’. </em></p><p>He could handle punches.</p><p>“I don’t need to figure anything out,” Liam’s tone is low, but it’s not outright enraged, as he thought it might be. He steps closer, raising Theo’s hackles immediately. “I know exactly why I’m struggling. So do you.”</p><p>Theo refuses; mind screaming <em>danger, danger, danger</em>. Even if he stopped to think about it, about the only thing that had really happened in the last week, he couldn’t. He won’t think about why Liam has turned into a livewire; he won’t. </p><p>His mind supplies several disloyal thoughts; whispers <em>mine </em>and <em>home </em>and <em>anchor </em>in a way that makes him desperate to retreat.</p><p>His eyes close while he tries to pull himself together, “Liam,” He starts, trying to formulate some kind of <em>normal </em>response; an explanation that didn’t just damn them both.</p><p>A warm hand slides over his cheek.</p><p>He wishes that he could say that he’s strong; that he allows himself to simply pull away; that it doesn’t send a shock right down his spine. He wishes.</p><p>He wishes that he could open his eyes and stand his ground.</p><p>He wishes a lot of things, but when Liam’s thumb strokes over the high point of his cheekbone, Theo can’t help but chase the feeling. He knows that for all his wishes, all that he <em>really </em>wants is to let go of all the thoughts running through his mind and let it happen, just this once.</p><p>It couldn’t hurt, could it, just one time?</p><p>(He’d told himself the same thing, once before).</p><p>He turns into it, nuzzling into Liam’s outstretched hand and settling on the concentration of his scent at his wrist, just a little bit.</p><p>Just this once.</p><p>“Please, don’t push me away,” Liam breathes, a suspicious hitch between words. “I can’t—I can’t handle it. I just miss you, all the time.”</p><p>If he were even half as brave as Liam, Theo thinks his life might have turned out a lot different.</p><p>Maybe he’d already be dead.</p><p>His fingers curve behind Theo’s ear, and he hates the way that his breath catches so audibly.</p><p>“I know I pushed you,” He soothes. “I know, and I’m sorry. I won’t, I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”</p><p>Theo brings his own hand up to cover Liam’s, and he opens his eyes. He had been so caught up that he hadn’t come to sense how close Liam had gotten, again; hadn’t felt the heat of him. But he’s close enough that his breath stutters over Theo’s jaw when their gazes meet.</p><p>“If you want to go back to how it was before, that’s fine, we can do that. Please, just, please don’t push me away.”</p><p>Theo wants to do exactly that; wants to tell him every manner of awful truth about himself, just to see where it gets them; how far Liam would run.</p><p>Wants to tell him that he’s barely human, barely wolf, barely coyote, barely alive; that he’ll never be whole.</p><p>Wants to tell him that sometimes he imagines himself rotting, worms eating their way through him; that he might have preferred it over the reality of what the Skinwalker’s prison was, for him.</p><p>Wants to tell him that this is all there is; some shadow of a person.</p><p>But, god. Liam can touch him, even if the light can’t; makes him feel like it doesn’t matter what he is, that chimera is enough, that <em> Theo </em>is enough. Liam is the reason he wasn’t left to the worms.</p><p>His name is a low beat that courses through him. Liam.</p><p>“You, you <em>just</em>,” He tries, shaking his head, because he just <em>can’t </em>figure out what to do. He’d protected himself for so long. But now there was Liam, standing before him, offering him… <em> something</em>. Something he wanted, despite himself. “You fucking <em> break </em>me, every single time. And you don’t know that you’re doing it. You don’t know, and I can’t. I can’t, fuck.”</p><p>“I know,” Liam says, quickly. There’s something that Theo can’t pick out straight away, something sad behind his voice. “I do know. I know that you don’t think I meant it, and I know that you’ve convinced yourself that you can’t have things that you want. You still don’t think you’ve earned them, or that it’s alright to want them. But it is.”</p><p>He tries, so badly, to hold his ground and not react when Liam’s free hand comes to rest on his waist.</p><p>“It’s why you go still, when I touch you, like this.”</p><p>Theo hates it. Hates that Liam has him all figured out. Hates that he <em>wants</em>. Hates that it terrifies him and that the urge to curl into the touch and sob is so visceral.</p><p>“But you <em>can</em>. You’re alive, and you’re here. With me. And I want… just as many things. I want you to be safe. I don’t want you to punish yourself anymore. I want to know that when you wake up terrified every night, that you know that you can ask me for help, and I’ll be here. I want you to not have those bags under your eyes anymore. And I want… I want you to want me to touch you, because, god, I <em> want </em>to, Theo. I just—I want. You.”</p><p>The universe must really fucking hate Theo.</p><p>He’s vaguely aware that he’s shaking, and that he wants to cry, or scream, or <em>something</em>, but he can’t quite decide.</p><p>“I know you don’t believe that it’s true; I know you won’t let yourself. And that’s… that’s fine, but you should be happy. I think you could be, I think I could—I could make you happy.”</p><p>Liam stops, and Theo thinks he might see a tear, and he’s not quite sure what to do with that. Doesn’t know how to cope with the idea that maybe they’re there; in it, sinking into the hurt together.  </p><p>“If you say no... If you tell me to back off, I will. But I just want you to know that you deserve more than this.”</p><p>There’s silence, and neither of them quite willing to break it. Just Liam’s hands and the street light silhouetting him and the hair’s breadth of space between them.</p><p>It could have been thirty seconds or it could have been five minutes, but they stand there in the cold air, unmoving, heavy touch stilled on his body.</p><p>Liam’s waiting for him, he realises.</p><p>But he can’t move a muscle, can’t form any thought that isn’t a garbled mess. None of his limbs seem to work, and he knows he can’t say a single word because he knows, he knows, he <em>knows </em>that he’s going to ruin it, in a way that they won’t be able to come back from.</p><p>He’s frozen.</p><p>He tells himself again, maybe it’s for the best.</p><p>Liam drops his hands.</p><p>He offers him a sad smile, thumb shaking as it drags down his cheek, and then he’s backing away.</p><p>He’s leaving. </p><p>He’s leaving, and Theo thinks, panicked and against every better judgment, <em> I’ve lost him. </em></p><p>Like maybe there was something there to lose all along. He’s lost him; this is it.</p><p>He’s walking away, and for all Theo knows, out of his life.</p><p>The air around him chills; empty. He wants to reach out, but there isn't anything close enough for his fingers to grasp. Just Liam's retreating form and the wave of panic crashing over him.</p><p>“You’re <em>all I want</em>,” Theo calls out, distressed and pleading, without even meaning for the words to leave him. It’s Liam who stills, then, comes to a stop before he’s even reached the pavement, heavy.</p><p>“Everything… everything I fucking do, it’s for you,” He’s breaking, again, ripping apart at the seams, but he can’t just make himself function enough run away again. He could; he should. He should pack a bag and get in his truck and get out of Beacon Hills, leave it all behind and pretend. He’d had the urge often enough. But he can’t. “To keep you safe, to make you proud or get under your skin. I’d, Jesus, I’d do anything just to make you smile at me once. And I know that’s so fucking sad and pathetic, and I’m fucking… nothing, but you’re the only—”</p><p>He’s never seen Liam move the way that he does, to get back up the front steps, but he’s <em>there</em>.</p><p>His hands are on Theo again, cradling his face like he’s <em>something precious</em>. And maybe. Maybe. Maybe he is, to Liam.</p><p>What a ridiculous thought.</p><p>Liam; subtle as a bull, whose fierce loyalty was the only thing that rivalled the anger that simmered beneath his skin; who somehow managed to settle the raging swarm of Theo’s fears and had him wrapped around his little fucking finger without even knowing. Being the bait. Settling down roots in a town that made him feel itchy and uneasy. Liam; the boy Theo had never really accounted for. </p><p>The reason he had to deny that he wanted something more for himself than simple oblivion.</p><p>Liam, who touches him like it’s nothing.</p><p>“I need…” Liam says, “I need to know that this is okay, I need… Can I kiss you?”</p><p>Theo doesn’t even try to make his throat work around the words, just lets their shaky breath mingle together for a moment, eyes shut tight again. He just nods, knowing for the first time that both of them are wound up and on the precipice of something; something that just might be real.</p><p>And he hates himself for it.</p><p>The first touch is almost too much, has him letting out a soft mewl against the other boy’s lips.</p><p>It’s just a graze; could be nothing at all; could be something they could both let go.</p><p>But Theo knows that he won’t. Not now.</p><p>He’s not that good a person.</p><p>And it’s as though something has snapped into place within him. A recklessness perhaps inherited from Liam’s own repertoire.</p><p>It’s him, now, letting his hands curl tight into the collar of Liam’s sweatshirt, pulling him in like it’s all he can do, to keep his head above water. Like there’s only one breath in his lungs left to give, and there was really only one thing he could possibly do with it.</p><p>Like he has to put everything into it, into this one kiss.</p><p>(It’s still there, the nagging feeling that <em>this was all he could have</em>; the whispering voice that says, ‘Yes, just this one time. Just once’.)</p><p>Liam steps them back inside, flailing blindly behind himself in order to push the door closed — unwilling to let go — and it’s all Theo needs before surging forward to push him back against it before they get too far.</p><p>Too reminiscent of the last time Liam had been in his home, but not at all the same.</p><p>Their lips move together, his own bruising desperation against Liam’s more practiced skill. His lips are surprisingly dry; chapped — an unexpected friction that’s not entirely unpleasant, until he’s urging their mouths to yield to each other with a swipe of his tongue over Theo’s bottom lip.  </p><p>It’s searing when he opens up to it, and he can’t quite help the way that his hand curls around Liam’s throat, arching him up into the kiss further. </p><p>He couldn’t quite admit how long it had been since he had kissed another person, but he was entirely certain it had never felt like this.</p><p>He can’t get close enough; can’t get enough of the taste of him. His own tongue presses into Liam’s and he knows that he’s already overwhelmed, that his breath is harsh and his hands shake, and he just can’t let go. </p><p>He wants to kiss him until his lips are numb, wants to kiss him until Liam has stolen all the air from his lungs, wants to convey everything he was too much of a coward to speak out loud. Wants to kiss him until he’s too far gone to notice when Liam does leave.</p><p>“Hey,” Liam eases, pulling away, only to press their foreheads together. He deflects Theo’s attempt to press back in with thumbs soothing over his face, and he can’t help the whine that fights its way to his throat. “Hey, hey. ‘m not going anywhere. It’s alright. We don’t have to rush.”</p><p>He doesn’t know that Liam understands, but he still wants to yell out, ‘<em>We do’</em>; wants to make sure that he got enough of his taste that he wouldn’t forget; got enough for a lasting memory, because for all the pretty words and promises out of Liam’s mouth, he knew it couldn’t be. Knew it would have to end. </p><p>Theo doesn’t quite know how to respond, but he looks down at Liam, and he’s sure that his face says it all.</p><p>It doesn’t matter that he wants it to hurt, because Liam kisses him again, directing them with a slow, calm presence against Theo’s frantic need and he fights the urge to ask <em>why</em>; to demand something he can’t really explain. But it feels <em>good</em>.</p><p>He sinks into it, allows Liam’s mouth to lead them; allows him to take him exactly where he wanted, because it was all he could ask for.</p><p>Liam seemingly just knew how to bluster his way into Theo’s idiosyncrasies, replacing Tara’s hands in his chest with his own without even realising. It took Theo by surprise, that he would just… <em> do </em>these things; let alone want to. With the way his heart was continually jumping up into his throat at a touch as simple as the stroke of Liam's thumb, he couldn’t deny that maybe he wanted them, too, as forbidden as they were.</p><p>He pulls back and allows his head to drop back against the door behind them, offers Theo a tentative smile; one that has his shoulders sagging in their hastily-created bubble.</p><p>“Can I stay?” He asks, doing it <em>again</em>, though Theo was sure Liam didn’t get that he really didn’t have it in him to deny him in that moment. Like he hadn't given up every single ounce of the protection he'd had in place for himself with what may as well have been a single, solitary look. “Can I? Not for… Not to do anything. Just. Hasn't felt right, this last week. And now it does.”</p><p>He wasn’t wrong.</p><p>Was Theo really such a masochist? He couldn’t explore the answer to that question without a severe bout of self-loathing following along after.</p><p>They’re close enough that Liam’s eyes seem to flick between his, examining him while Theo pauses to process. </p><p>“You kill me, you know,” He says, too honest. With his hands on him, so close to everything he had ever wanted, looking into eyes that had made him truly realise how <em>weak </em>he was, Theo could hardly help himself. “I’m trying, I really am. I’m trying to be good, and you just…”</p><p>Liam grins, like the little shit he is.</p><p>What can he do, but kiss him again?</p><p>Once was never going to be enough. He should have known. When their lips meet again, he realises that it’s all that he’s ever going to want to do; that he’s quite effectively broken his own heart in advance.</p><p>He kisses Liam as though it could ever be enough; as though he wishes it could be. Lets his hands bury in his hair, lets his fingers instinctually find and trace over the sliver of skin below the hem of his shirt, lets himself stop and taste and try to memorise every inch of him that he possibly could.</p><p>He had tried to feel nothing for so long, it was almost too much.</p><p>Liam’s hands clutch at his shirt and curl around his hip, and the keening noise that he makes goes straight through him, high and desperate and vibrating against him; both scrambling for purchase against each other, still closer to drowning than learning to swim.</p><p>Pulling away for air is inevitable, but Theo still resists until he can’t fight it any longer. He doesn’t want to. Even though he was becoming more and more aware that he was too much of a fool to deny himself, that he was readily signing his own death warrant to entertain his desire; that it could only end badly, now.</p><p>“Stay,” He says, more of a drawn out ‘whoosh’ of breath than anything else, and then, more sure. “Stay.” </p><p>His hand searches for Liam’s, just to hold.</p><p>Just this once.<br/>
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</p><p> </p><p>Theo falls asleep with Liam's head resting over his stolen heart, knowing that he would still be leaving in the morning, and he thinks it might be easier if he could feel it shattering.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>Standing in a motel room less than a day later, in a town he'd hoped never to visit again and with a snarling werewolf's claws digging into his lungs, Theo can't help but picture the way that Liam had looked, so openly gazing up at him; the way that his hands had felt drawing patterns over his skin.</p><p> </p><p>He thinks,<em> it might have been worth it, to die like this, thinking of a boy</em>.</p><p><br/>
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